


Quiet

by Juvinadelgreko



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Coming Out, Episode: s07e02 Longbow Hunters, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, I love William Clayton ok, Season/Series 07, holiday fic kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juvinadelgreko/pseuds/Juvinadelgreko
Summary: William reflects on his time in Cambridge, and later, shares something important with Oliver and Felicity.





	1. Shift

**Author's Note:**

> I adored writing William! I’ve been wondering what it would be like for him to come out to Oliver and Felicity, so I wrote a fic about it. While I myself haven’t reached a point in my life where I feel ready to come out, I intend to one day. I’ve done my best to write this story with respect and care for the topic. All constructive criticism is appreciated.

If there was one thing good that had come of William Clayton’s time in Cambridge, it had been time. Never in his life had he had so much time. Time to tinker, time to write, time to doodle, time to screw around, time to worry, but most of all, time to think.

 

His life had imploded on him twice now. First, a madman had set fire to everything he’d known and loved. And just after he’d begun to find his footing after that, what precious little stability he knew crumbled to dust under the sledgehammer of his father’s confession. He and Felicity had clung to each other through months of excruciating isolation and loneliness. Every day began and ended in fear, anxiety. Wake up, wonder if he’d ever see his dad again, chew his nails over it all day, go to bed, still wondering if he’d ever see his dad again. The worry had consumed him. Every waking moment had been marked by fear. Every corner of his mind fighting the same ghost. _Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear._

 

_Fear fear fe—Cambridge? You’re sending me to Cambridge?_

 

He’d dug his heels in at first. She was leaving him, of course. His mother was dead, his father incarcerated. Was he really to blame? The fought of losing not a first, not a second, but a _third_ parent, was unbearable. However unfortunate it was, the fact that he was acquainted with dangers of being Oliver Queen’s son had proved ultimately fortunate in softening the blow. Sadly, he hadn’t been shocked at Oliver’s choice. It didn’t matter how many times William had watched his father grit his teeth in the face of pain and danger—William knew that the moment someone threatened his family, Oliver would give. It was admirable, sure, admirable the same way a baking soda and vinegar volcano was. Cool-looking and sounding, but one hell of a mess. He’d fallen asleep on Felicity’s lap that night.

 

But as he’d packed his bags that morning, alone with his thoughts, he found that there was a tiny, tiny part of him that didn’t completely hate the idea of Cambridge. It was England, after all. Home of Harry Potter! How bad could it really be? And as his plane rumbled off the ground, he found himself excited about the idea of fresh air.

 

—

 

He was there for two months. Two months that he’d likely never forget as long as he lived.

 

If he were to put in words, he’d say that there’d been a shift. In everything that made William Clayton who he was.

 

Cambridge had opened his eyes. Not to horror, the way Lian Yu had, but to possibility. He was in a new nation, with a new name, new responsibilities. New friends, new routines. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done the witness protection charade before; but he’d never done it alone. For the first time in his life, he could be anything.

 

—

 

The first thing William learned at Cambridge was that not having to hide around the clock provided a lot of free time.

 

He found that he had hours to himself, to simply just be. He decorated his corner of the dorm with blueprints, ideas, tacky posters, but not a single photograph. The hozen remained tucked neatly in a pair of his lesser worn socks. The less salt landed in his wounds, the faster they’d heal. He liked his roommates well enough. He found a group to eat his lunch with, study with. In Cambridge, there was no hiding from Diaz. He wouldn’t run the risk of being kidnapped if he stayed too late at the library. There was no risk of being shot on the street if he walked the wrong roads. Soon, he stopped trying to preserve the temporary nature of his residence in Cambridge. He was happy. He didn’t want to think about home. Home meant missing his father and seeing dried tear tracks on his step-mother’s face every morning. Cambridge meant freedom, friendship, peace, calm, quiet.

 

Quiet.

 

You could hear a pin drop in a truly silent room.

 

And in Cambridge, William’s mind was blessedly silent. Working and growing, yes, but quiet.

 

Which meant he could finally hear the pins dropping that he hadn’t noticed over the shriek of constant fear.

 

_Why wasn’t my father originally allowed to know I existed? How did he find out about me?_

_What do I want to do with my life?_

_What happened to my father while he was on Lian Yu?_

_Why don’t I have at least a crush on a single girl?_

 

William attempted to answer these questions much in the same way he answered any other question he’d ever had. Science. Observe, experiment, hypothesize, analyze, conclude as a result. Repeat if necessary.

 

Questions one and three had required an external source for observation that he didn’t have access to. His father.

 

Question two was far too existentially heavy to answer with science. Besides, he already had a partial answer to that one. Science. Always science.

 

Question four, however, only required one thing to answer—a William.

 

If someone had asked William, point-blank, who his crush was, he would’ve said, _I don’t have one._ Which wasn’t a lie. Why, though, that was where things got hazy. His “safe” answer would’ve been, _well, I’m in witness protection, and relationships usually require honesty, which is hard when one is in witness protection; besides, it’s hard to find time for a partner when you’re running from a psycho with a lizard tattoo._ Also, not a lie. But not necessarily the whole truth, either. Because, as it turned out, only of one of those excuses would hold up in Cambridge. Sure, he couldn’t very well tell people he was the son of the disgraced vigilante mayor of Star City, but he could certainly go on friendly outings or eat lunch with a pretty girl because he finally had the time to. But he didn’t want to.

 

He’d been asked countless times for opinions about this girl, or that girl. Truth was, he didn’t care. Sure, maybe this girl or that girl was at least aesthetically pleasing, but that was all. It’s the first inkling of a bigger truth in his mind. So he didn’t care about girls. He didn’t need to, he was thirteen for God’s sake! He couldn’t be gay though, could he? No way. Not William Clayton.

 

But nonetheless, he toyed with the idea, for a good scientist never threw out a hypotheses without proper experimentation. He finds himself watching other guys. The way they talk, move, act, stand. It draws his eyes, his mind, in a way that no girl ever could. He pictures himself with girls, with guys. One picture is definitely clearer than the other. One picture makes his stomach turn, his fingers twitch. The other is...comforting, in the sense that it is correct.

 

He is lying is his bunk, the chill of English fall licking at the minuscule cracks in the centuries-old seal on the windows, when he admits it to himself.

 

_I’m gay._

 

He rolls over and begins to contemplate what exactly such a revelation means for his future.


	2. Quiet

_Christmas Day, Star City._

His family is back together. His family is back together and celebrating the holidays together. Holiday music drifts through the rafters of their apartment, twining neatly around the sounds of his parents’ bickering in the kitchen, from which the smell of _latkes_ couples with that of Oliver’s famous slow cooker turkey roast.

 

“...but I want to help!”

“Felicity, honey, you burnt water last night.”

“I can cut an apple, Oliver!”

“Ok, ok, just—use a cutting board!”

 

William listens to the apples sizzling in Oliver’s skillet and contemplates his plan for the day. In one hour, the Diggles and Donna will arrive at their apartment for a Christmas/Hanukkah dinner. He has one hour to tell them. After careful thought and consideration, William pegged Christmas as his coming out day. His family was together, in a happy, festive mood. They’d found their rhythm again after weeks of tension and readjustment. He’s never felt closer to them. William doesn’t want anything between himself and his family ever again. He wants to tell them, needs to tell them. He knows exactly what he’ll say, how he’ll say it. Hell, he’d even recited his speech to himself that morning in the mirror. _Dad, Felicity, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you..._

 

He’s nervous, because, well, of course he is. He knows neither Oliver nor Felicity will be anything but loving and accepting but...it’s still a big deal. It’s still a big step.

 

“That’s the the last of them,” he hears his father’s voice echo from the kitchen as he arranges the last batch of _latkes_ on a warm plate with a dish of roasted veggies, and, William’s favorite, stuffing. He fondly and briefly remembers the previous holiday season, in which the three of them had gotten into a heated debate over the merits of pre-packaged stuffing from the store versus the healthy, organic one Oliver had found online. Team William and Felicity had won that one, no question. No other stuffing had crossed the threshold of their apartment since.

 

William is pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of his father sinking down on the couch next to him, Oliver picking up the TV remote and searching for the Hallmark channel to put on in the background (“Oliver, I love Hallmark holiday movies” “Of course you do” “they’re cute” “They’re cheesier than fondue, Felicity”).

 

They’re joined by Felicity a moment later as she gently nudges Oliver towards William so she can sit down.

 

Save for the reassuring hum of the holiday season in the air, the apartment is silent.

 

All is quiet.

 

William takes a deep breath in.

 

“Dad, Felicity, there’s something I want to tell you guys.”

 

They turn to face him at the same time, two pairs of blue eyes peering straight through him. _Here goes it,_ thought William. 

 

“I think I’m—“ Willliam swallows, takes a deep breath, and collects himself. He can do this. He is William Clayton, and he is proud of who he is. “I’m gay.”

 

A moment of silence, and William almost stops breathing, and then—

 

“Come here, buddy,” his father’s voice is warm, proud as he opens his arms to hug his son. William does not hesitate to go to him, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck and smiling into his shoulder. A few minutes pass, and Oliver moves back.

 

“William. I want you to know, that I am so, so proud of you. You are my son and I love you more than you will ever know. I will always, always, always love you for exactly who you are. You deserve the most incredible partner in life and it does not matter an inch to me what gender that person is as long as you are happy. And I know that your mother, if she were here, would feel exactly the same.”

 

He thinks that there may be tears in his father’s eyes. But it could’ve just been all the onions he’d been cutting earlier. He knows that his own throat feels thick.

 

“I think he pretty much said it all,” Felicity is smiling at him from the other end of the couch. “I’m proud of you, William. I love you.” She’s beaming at him. He feels warm all over, a kind of light, free happiness flowing in his veins, warming his soul. 

 

“If it’s ok—I’d like to keep this between the three of us for now.” William adds.

 

“Of course,” they say, almost in unison. Oliver adds, “it’s not anyone’s place but yours to tell anyone anything.”

 

“Thank you,” he says. Then adds, “I’m really lucky to have both of you.”

 

Damn those onions, all three of them are crying now.

 

As his family sits down for dinner, William is at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> ...this was supposed to be a one shot. Oops. Hope you enjoyed! Come find me on tumblr, @juvinadelgreko


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